


If the Fates Allow

by dollylux



Series: Fic Advent Calendar 2014: Brothers, Soulmates, and Other Such Sexiness [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Accidents, Christmas Party, Hurt/Comfort, Icy Roads, Injury, M/M, Pre-Series, Teenchesters, Underage Kissing, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The roads are dangerous when Dean drives Sam home from a Christmas party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Fates Allow

**Author's Note:**

> Day nineteen of my fic advent calendar. Prompt: sleet.

It turns out, the Christmas party really hadn’t been that great.

There were girls there, sure, and soda and about nine different kinds of dip and Chex Mix and poppy Christmas songs playing, but it hadn’t been the kind of party Sam expected. The kind where they would sneak into a bottle of alcohol and watch some funny movies and eat a ton of pizza. Instead, he got a Garfield Chia Pet as his gift, a little bit of a stomachache from the onion dip, and got to spend some time with Shannon’s great uncle Murrell.

It’s sleeting by the time he goes outside to wait for Dean, other kids getting picked up by their parents in nice, quiet cars that ease on carefully down the road. He pulls his coat tighter around him, gives all the other kids an awkward smile and a wave when they leave, and he listens for the Impala.

He hears it about fifteen minutes later, after everyone else has left and the porch light’s been turned off, Sam tucking into a corner of the small front porch so everyone inside the house will think he’s gone, will leave him alone and let him decompress after being so intensely social for the last three hours. He stands up, gift bag swinging from his arm, long hair in his eyes, freezing hands tucking into his pockets just as the Impala comes into view, headlights bright, body gleaming shiny and beetle black in the freezing night.

He opens the passenger door, the handle biting cold and wet, and he gives a sigh of relief when he peeks in and sees Dean.

“Oh, thank God. I was hoping Dad wasn’t going to be the one coming to get me.” He sinks into the seat and pulls the door closed to keep the heat pumping from the vents from escaping anymore, his eyes falling closed as he tips his face toward his brother, their mouths connecting warm and wet and hungry.

Dean keeps his hands on the wheel, his foot on the brake, and licks into Sam’s mouth. Sam presses closer, opening his mouth more for Dean to get inside, to let him run his tongue over the slick roof of his mouth and along the bumps of his teeth.

Sam still can’t believe sometimes that someone as dangerously beautiful as Dean would ever look twice at Sam, let alone love him so completely.

He feels so fucking lucky that Dean is also his brother.

Dean ends the kiss after a long, dragging minute that has Sam’s dick throbbing between his legs, their mouths ghosting, savoring, Dean’s hands wringing tight on the wheel.

“Have fun?” Dean pulls back, long lashes lifting to reveal the green glint of his eyes in the dark. He licks his lips and Sam leans back just to watch him, to stare at his mouth as he nods.

“It was okay. I just. I just really wanna be home.” The _with you_ goes without saying, and Dean smiles because he knows it. He drops one more kiss to Sam’s mouth, one to his cold, pink cheek before shifting in his seat, facing forward again and hitting the gas, the car lurching forward slowly with the low growl of the engine.

Sam settles back in his seat and lets out a heavy, lust-filled sigh. He hopes Dad’s asleep. That he’s got a bottle in his hand and he won’t wake, won’t even stir, until morning.

“Seatbelt,” Dean reminds him, drawing Sam out of his fantasy and making him squint over at his brother before he finally obeys him.

“So bossy,” Sam huffs, but there’s a smile hiding on his face in the dark. Dean reaches over and laces their hands together between them on the vinyl bench seat.

The house they’re renting is about twenty minutes outside of town, and every minute that passes makes the sleet fall harder, the roads slicker. Just a couple miles from the Perkins’ house, they skid a little, almost sliding off the road. 

“Dean, we can pull over if--”

“It’s fine, Sammy,” Dean practically growls, all nerves now, sitting straight up in his seat, his eyes laser-focused on the road. “Just let me drive.”

“Okay,” Sam mumbles, ducking his head and frowning down at his lap, releasing Dean’s hand so he can hold the wheel with both hands. His heart is racing nervously just like it always does when they get on slick roads, like it does when either Dad or Dean get scared like this. He knows Dean can handle it, that this isn’t anything--

“Fuck!” 

Sam’s eyes shoot up then, seeing what is making Dean jerk the wheel hard to the left, the car skidding and screeching on the icy-slick road: a fox. A beautiful, fiery orange and almost serene where it sits in the middle of their lane, its eyes glinting in the headlights. Sam only sees it for a split second, swears he makes eye contact with it, but he’s bracing, hand going out to clutch the door as they drive off the road and run into a fence, the left side of the car taking the brunt of the impact, the sound of metal on metal slamming together deafening. 

They’re both thrown forward, Sam straight toward the dash, but he puts his hands out so he doesn’t fly face-first into it. Dean hits harder, hits first, his head jerking dangerously quick, forehead making impact with the curve of the hard plastic steering wheel, bouncing off and snapping his head back. Sam sees it all in a blink, in slow motion, and then everything is quiet.

The fox crosses the road in two graceful leaps before disappearing into the night.

“Dean!” Sam is trembling hard, his hands shaking but he somehow grips the gearshift and throws the car into park. He turns his attention to his brother, fear and adrenaline making his muscles tense, his breath leaving in harsh pants. Dean has his eyes closed, head resting back against the seat, and he would almost look serene except for the angry stripe of red across his forehead from the steering wheel and the bump swelling up from under it almost immediately, right before Sam’s eyes. “Dean!”

Dean blinks, groaning as he reaches up to touch his forehead. Sam snatches his hand out of mid-air and clutches it in his own, pressed up tight to Dean’s side, looking him over in the dark car, in the light from the moonlight, praying as fiercely as he ever has for Dean to be okay, just please let him be okay.

“Dean,” he whimpers, his whole body shaking so hard that he’s afraid he’s going to faint, going to pass out while Dean’s hurt and not be able to help him. “Look at me. Please look at me?”

Dean’s lashes flutter, eyes opening slowly, his pupils huge, almost blocking out the green of his irises. He looks over at Sam but doesn’t settle on him, his gaze big and unfocused, like he can see Sam but can’t quite make him out.

“Sammy,” he gruffs, tightening his grip on Sam’s fingers, trying to lift up, to sit up again. “Shit. Shit, did I just wreck the fucking car?”

“Are you okay?” His chin is trembling as he pulls Dean’s hand to his chest, right over the frantic, terrified race of his heart, his eyes flying over Dean’s face as he tries to open his eyes more, head shaking sluggishly from side to side like he’s trying to snap out of something. 

“Yeah, m’alright,” Dean finally mumbles, pitching forward and bringing the hand Sam’s not holding up to rub across his forehead. He hisses when he touches the swollen knot under the bright red mark, and Sam reaches up to grab that hand, too.

“Don’t,” he says softly, keeping both of Dean’s hands pressed to his chest. “It looks bad. It looks bad, Dean.”

“It’s alright, Sammy. It’s just a bump. Just gimme a minute, okay? Go look at the car, will you? God, Dad’s gonna fuckin’ _kill_ me.” Dean collapses back against the seat again with a sigh, his eyes falling closed, but he seems at least a little more coherent than he had just a minute ago.

“No, he won’t,” Sam says under his breath, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s slack mouth. “I won’t let him.”

He reaches over to turn off the ignition, the rumble of the engine dying out and making the silence a pure one as he opens the door and steps out into the freezing rain, onto the empty road. He closes the door back and walks around the front of the car, bracing for the worst when he gets over to Dean’s side.

The headlight’s busted, the metal on the bottom of the fender bent in, but it’s fine otherwise. He lets out the breath he’d been holding. He squints up at Dean through the water-slicked windshield and gives him a thumbs-up. He can see Dean visibly relax, let out that very same breath.

Sam hurries back around and bundles into the car, yanking the door closed behind him and turning his attention immediately back to Dean. 

“It’s fine. Busted headlight and a little bit of a dent, but it’s fine. Nothing worse than Dad’s ever done.” He pushes a hand up into Dean’s hair, stroking it back with the most gentle touch he’s ever used with anything, staring intensely at Dean’s face, wishing he was a doctor or something so he could know for sure if Dean was okay because he knows he can’t trust anything Dean says when it comes to his own well-being. “We can wait here for awhile.”

“Nah, ‘m okay. I just need to put some ice on it when I get home.” Dean sits up again, blinking quickly as he starts the car up, turning those warm eyes on Sam and getting him right where he knows Sam will feel it. “Will you help me, Sammy? When we get home?”

“Of course,” Sam replies immediately, nails tender on Dean’s scalp, mouth tipping down to press against Dean’s eyebrow, kissing there over and over again. “Of course I will. Just… just drive slow. Okay? We don’t have to hurry.”

“Get your seatbelt back on,” Dean reminds him, putting the car in reverse and glancing up into the rearview mirror, all of his movements still slow, delayed. Sam feels uneasy, feels it like an itch at the back of his mind, but he shoves it down to be present, just in case Dean needs him right now. He tugs the seatbelt back over his lap, buckling it and tucking his hands in his lap. He wants to touch Dean so bad, to keep petting him or hold his hand, but Dean needs to focus, needs to get them home.

The tires groan, spinning a little in the mud before they catch pavement and the car actually moves, inching back until all four of them are on the road and Dean can throw her in drive and keep going.

They’re quiet while Dean drives, Sam keeping his head down and fidgeting, tugging on his flannel and his hoodie, pulling them over his hands. He wants to talk because he wants to hear Dean’s voice, to know he’s really okay, but he doesn’t want to distract him. They’re ten minutes from the house. That’s it.

The car starts listing off the road, over the side of it and down into the grass, toward the ditch. Sam reaches over on instinct, getting a hand on the wheel and jerking it back to the left, getting them back on the road. Dean barely reacts, his eyes mostly closed, hand loose on the wheel.

“Dean, please,” Sam manages to gasp, crawling up onto the bench seat and getting both hands on the wheel, trying to look between his brother who he’s desperately worried about and the road, frantic tears in his eyes. “Dean, wake up. _Dean_!”

Dean jerks back to life then, slamming on the brakes again and sending them skidding forward before screeching to a stop that makes Sam nearly crash into the dashboard again. Sam shoves the car into park, hands pushing up into his hair while his heart crowds up in the back of his throat.

“Switch places with me, Dean,” he whispers, his voice shaking hard. “Move.”

“Sam’y, you can’ drive,” Dean slurs, his eyes completely closed now, hands slipping off the wheel and onto his lap. “You’re fourteen.”

“I can drive enough. I c-can’t let you drive. Dean, please, you’re scaring me. _Please_ move.” Sam opens the car door again and hurries around to the other side, opening the driver’s door and slipping in just as Dean slides over to the passenger seat. He yanks the door closed again and watches worriedly while Dean slumps against the door, not sleeping as much as just checking out, slipping away.

It terrifies Sam.

He adjusts the steering wheel and the mirrors, trying frantically to remember all the little things Dean’s told him the few times he’s taken Sam out driving. None of the little stuff matters though, he realizes. Not right now. What matters is getting home in one piece. 

He puts her into drive again and presses his slippery shoe down on the gas, just a little at first and then more, feeling her lurch forward uncertainly under Sam’s control. Dean doesn’t react at all, doesn’t sit up in worry, doesn’t even mumble any tips or directions at Sam. That’s the scariest part of all because Sam knows his brother. Knows that this would freak Dean out if he realized. And there’s nothing coming from him. Nothing.

The rest of the drive home is the most stressful thing Sam’s ever done, and that includes staying perfectly still under the covers with Dean’s dick in his mouth while Dad talked to Dean from the open doorway. He uses his turn signals, stays well under the speed limit, and keeps an eye out for stray foxes.

He turns into the driveway and puts the car in park, letting out a shuddering sigh of relief that rattles all through him.

He feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Hold on, Dean,” he whispers, cupping the back of his head and helping him sit up a little. He kisses Dean’s temple gingerly, rubbing the tip of his nose along Dean’s cheek and sighing against his skin. “I’m gonna go get Dad. We’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay?”

Dean makes the softest sound deep in his chest, and Sam knows that somehow, even barely conscious, that Dean’s trying to argue with him about the hospital.

Sam piles out of the car, nearly falling on the icy steps before he bursts into the house.

Dad’s dozing on the couch, head tipped back, snoring softly. He jerks awake when Sam rushes in, the screen door clattering behind him.

“Sam! What the--”

“Dad, there’s.” Sam’s eyes well with tears, all the fear and stress he’s experienced over the last half hour catching up with him all at once. His chin trembles, and Dad is standing up now, putting on his shoes without even having to be asked. “We were driving home and it’s sleeting and there was a fox in the road and we ran off the road and hit a fence and--”

“Where’s Dean?” Dad’s fully alert now, pulling on his jacket, his eyes on Sam.

“He’s in the car. He hit his head. Can we please take him to the hospital? Please? He’s not really responding to me and I’m just--”

“Hey, hey. Just calm down, okay? We’ll get him there. Car’s okay to drive, right?” Dad’s got a big hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it in an effort to calm Sam down. Sam can only nod, his eyes huge with the effort not to let tears fall.

“Yessir.”

“Alright, let’s go. Lock the door behind you, alright?”

They hurry down the steps and to the car, Dad climbing into the driver’s seat and Sam slowly sliding in beside Dean, pulling the door closed behind him and turning in the seat so he can tug Dean back against him, Dean’s back to his chest. He wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight, eyes squeezed shut as he buries his face in the back of Dean’s neck.

Dad lets out a low whistle.

“Bonked his head pretty good, didn’t he? Hit the steering wheel?”

Sam nods again, tightening his arms around Dean. Dad gives a gentle laugh, one that Sam doesn’t quite understand, but Dad’s backing out of the driveway at least, getting them on the way to the hospital.

They don’t talk, not for a long while. Sam keeps his face where it is, nose against the nape of Dean’s neck, breathing him in, reminding himself that Dean’s here, he’s okay. He’s okay. _He’s okay he’s okay._

“Sammy?”

“He’s okay,” Sam whispers on automatic.

“Yeah,” Dad replies, his tone careful, but there’s a smile in his voice. “He’ll be alright. I was just gonna say, last week, you killed a werewolf. Shot it clean through the heart.”

Sam frowns but doesn’t lift his head.

“Yeah? So?”

“So,” Dad laughs, one of his hands lighting on Sam’s knee where it’s pressed against the bench seat by Dean’s leg. “So, you did that, did what most grown men couldn’t handle, and here you are, about to have a panic attack over a fender bender.”

Sam’s face burns hot with embarrassment, forehead digging against Dean’s neck before he finally lifts up, resting his cheek in the curve between Dean’s neck and his shoulder, looking over at his father in the dark.

“It’s… it’s not the accident. It’s Dean. It’s… it’s--”

“I get it, buddy,” Dad says softly, giving Sam’s knee a little squeeze. “It’s okay.”

Sam falls quiet again, face turning to tuck against Dean’s neck. He doesn’t think his dad _actually_ gets it, doesn’t think anybody ever does, really. Nobody else will ever understand how he feels about Dean because nobody else is either one of them, and nobody else has a Dean to love the way Sam loves him.

Sam just holds on tighter, hugging Dean, comforted beyond all reason when he feels one of Dean’s hands slide up and over where Sam’s arms are wrapped around him. 

It doesn’t matter who else gets it, or doesn’t get it. Because Dean does, and he’s the only one that matters.


End file.
